


premier

by bixgchan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Kabe-Don, M/M, also includes: yuuri wearing a LEOTARD, danseur!yuuri, happens somewhere in episode 4, includes: yuuri wearing a leotard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8476162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bixgchan/pseuds/bixgchan
Summary: Viktor meets Yuuri, the adorable premier danseur who would teach Yurio ballet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I took a lot of liberties here ok bear with me

“Yurio, you better get yourself together!” Viktor cheers gleefully, fully intending to induce some fear into the younger skater, but the blonde just shot him an annoyed glare from across the ice. He snickers under his breath, scratching Makkachin, who had his paws up against the outer rim of the rink, behind the ears. 

 

_ “Feisty!  _ I like it!” He continues, cupping a hand against his mouth to further amplify the volume of his voice. Yakov dutifully shuts him up with a roll of newspaper whacked against the back of his head. 

 

Chastised, Viktor continues to watch Yuri as he skates on the ice, the way he moves and cuts through his glides is strategic and graceful at the same time, definitely a cut above everybody else within his age group. He’s got so much raw talent and potential that it physically pains  _ Viktor _ to see all that much explosive content stored in such a fragile and young mind, just  _ waiting  _ to be utilized and stretched to it’s full extent. 

 

This is what Viktor was missing, the very reason he had to take it down a notch and keep it low this season. He’s already done  _ so  _ much, and honestly, he’s running a bit low on gas. Yuri is the type of skater that is the exact opposite of him, and alongside with Yakov, he had wanted to coach the kid; mold him into the type of skater he aims to be, and Viktor had tried.  _ Heaven _ knows he tried so hard, but he isn’t  _ enough. _ There could only be so much premade choreography and oral instruction can do.

 

So they find themselves here, Yakov lugging around an overgrown playboy (Viktor) and his dog, and an eager overachiever (Yuri) who’s got his career set out in front of him, to meet Yakov’s ex-wife, the former prima ballerina of the Bolshoi Ballet, Lilia Baranovskya. 

 

Yuri does a triple salchow, lands it  _ exquisitely _ , and Viktor howls from where he was standing. Yakov hits him with the wad of newspapers again, before signaling for Yuri to step out of the ice. The blonde obediently sets off towards the exit, looking very much irritated to be interrupted from practice. 

 

“I need you to meet someone.” Yakov says in that low and rumbling voice of his, and Viktor smiles knowingly. Yuri sends him a glare that seems to say  _ you tell me what this is about or else -  _ but Viktor’s smile doesn’t falter at the implied threat. He’s excited to see Yuri’s reaction when he meets the old hag -  _ very _ talented, refined, and renowned, but  _ old _ all the same - that would be administering his practices from here on till the foreseeable future. 

 

Yuri’s face morphs into that of barely contained fury - or at least that’s what it looks like from Viktor’s point of view - and much to the veteran skater’s content, he hears a chorus of surprised gasps and theatrical whispers from the general direction of the entrance hallways, followed by the foreboding  _ click clack _ of heels against the linoleum floor. 

 

Viktor turns around towards the sound of approaching steps, side-eyeing Yuri, who had also turned to face their visitors, and Viktor was expecting a…  _ different _ reaction. 

 

He was expecting awkward polite smiles under terrified emerald eyes and drawn blonde eyebrows. Viktor totally was not prepared for a red-faced Yuri, eyes glistening like the jewels they are like he just laid eyes on the answers to unlock the mysteries of the universe itself and lips bitten harshly between pearly-white teeth. 

 

“Thank you for coming, Lilia,” Yakov says, and Viktor shifts his gaze towards the woman, who had a slim fit mustard yellow coat with faux fur lining the collar, above black tights that hugged her legs, that were eaten up by knee-high five-inch leather boots. Viktor’s eyebrows shot up, he doesn’t remember the lady to have been so  _ bold _ with her fashion choices, but who is he to know how a woman’s mind works after divorce.

 

“Yuri, this is Lilia, you may be familiar with her as the former prima ballerina of the Bolshoi Ballet.” Yakov introduces, briefly nodding towards Viktor who smiles in response. Yuri stays stock-still where he was standing, still looking like he’s barely able to register what’s happening around him.

 

Lilia nods in acknowledgement, and at least the sharp features of her cheekbones and jawline is something Viktor is familiar with, along with intense jade eyes. Another thing Viktor isn’t well acquainted with is the petite and lean young man Lilia has standing beside her, clad in a large white sweater that swallows him up, black tights that seem to mold like paint on his shapely legs, and a pair of black ballet slippers covering his feet. 

 

Viktor faintly registers charcoal-black hair and navy-blue framed glasses around expressive chocolate and hazel eyes. Freckled cheeks, a pointy little nose, and thin rosy lips set into a polite smile. 

 

Lilia turns to the younger man beside him, “This is Katsuki Yuuri,” She starts, and Viktor mentally tests the name in his head. It sounds good, and he wonders if it would be even better rolling off his tongue, and when he was just about to test it out, Lilia continues talking. “He’s this year’s premier danseur noble, studying under me. He’s here to help in the kid’s basic ballet lessons.” 

 

Yuri makes some kind of pained noise, and Viktor is  _ shook _ . 

 

*

 

Katsuki Yuuri is a  _ menace _ . The danseur is absolutely  _ adorable _ , and the best part about it is that he’s completely oblivious about it. Viktor has been given the pleasure to watch Yurio all but fail at everything he tries to do under the scrutiny of Yuuri’s watchful gaze.

 

There was this one time, past beyond the time when Viktor had insisted that he was going to coach Yurio and that that was the reason as to why he had to accompany the blonde to  _ every ballet lesson _ he had (because Viktor had finally resigned himself to that lame excuse, and had proceeded to flirt with Yuuri every chance he gets), that they were going to meet at this dance studio located somewhere near the ice rink, and had shown up there earlier than they were supposed to. 

 

To put it simply, Viktor had been eternally blessed by the sight of Yuuri wearing a baby pink leotard that positively looked like it was  _ painted _ on his skin, prancing around the darn studio like the princess that he is, and when Viktor had knocked on the glass double doors, Yuuri had turned into a dark shade of crimson so fast Viktor was just amazed. 

 

Viktor had entered the studio just in time before Yuuri had secluded himself into one of the dressing rooms. The older man had chased Yuuri through the floor and had ended up behind the smaller man, trapping him between the heat of his body and the mirrored wall. 

 

“Viktor-san?” Yuuri had whispered harshly through panting breaths and tinted cheeks. “C-can you p-please move?” He had asked politely, but Viktor was having  _ none _ of that. Instead, he had put one hand against the mirror in front of them, and another to trail against Yuuri’s chin, travelling down to his waist. Viktor remembers resting his hand against the stretchy and thin layer of the leotard’s fabric, and Yuuri’s breath hitching in his throat. 

 

“I don’t want to.” Viktor had whispered back, gently and slowly pulling Yuuri so that the smaller man would turn around to face him. Yuuri had become passive, immediately turning to jelly in Viktor’s arms, and the Russian gained immense pleasure from the knowledge of it. With Yuuri now facing him, Viktor had taken a tentative step closer, closing the gap between them, and Yuuri’s breathing has started to become harsh, and Viktor’s hand that was up against the wall has somehow found it’s way to Yuuri’s other side, rubbing tiny circles against his waist. 

 

“A-aren’t you a bit e-early for lessons, V-Viktor-san?” Yuuri says to the air between them, eyes flitting to and from, voice shaky. Viktor smiles, and shakes his head. “I wanted private lessons, Yuuri.” He says, letting the name roll off of his tongue in a velvety rich tone. He leans in closer, as close as possible, just a breath, a whisper of the truth and then -

 

And then Yurio comes crashing in through the doors with the grace of a newly born faun. “ _ Private lessons?”  _ He shrieks, “Teach  _ me,  _ Yuuri-san!” He demands.  

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know what this is i am so ashamed dont look at me
> 
>  
> 
> [bixgchan](http://twitter.com/bixgchan)


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